Chapter 3

  Today was the day. Aimee’s birthday.

  Even with that weighing on his mind and being something of great significance that should be a driving force to propel him through the door of the store and right up to the angel herself, he could not find the courage to enter. Thomas stood at the entrance to the little shop wearing the finest clothes he could find. They were, unfortunately, the same as his usual wear, although cleaner, and his hair was combed as nicely as he could manage. In one leveled, sweaty fist he mercilessly clutched a half dozen tulips, Aimee’s favorite flower. The pin was hiding deep in the abyss that was his pants pocket.

  He kept telling himself he had the will to throw open the door. To stroll up to the woman of his dreams and steal her away for the day. Unfortunately, each time he raised his other hand to the door he would pause, just for a moment, then lower it again. This was done with no small amount of nervous shuffling.

  Unknown to Thomas, for the last few minutes of this, watching him from the window above, was Aimee. She tried her best to stifle a fit of giggling each time the man at her front door hesitated. To her, his shyness was overwhelmingly adorable, so she was reveling in this moment.

  Before his next attempt, she retreated from the window, ran down the stairs, and threw open the door just as Thomas was raising his hand to it again. He was taken aback and gave the smallest of shudders.

  “Oh, Aimee,” he managed. Thomas thrust the flowers he held forward. “These are for you. Happy birthday.”

  She took them with a gasp, but she wasn’t surprised. She had seen him holding them from her window this whole time. That certainly didn’t change how much she loved them though. Aimee held them close against her chest and swayed her hips side to side joyously.

  “I love them.” She offered a beautiful smile. “Come in while I put them in water.”

  She reached out, grabbed his hand in hers, and pulled him through the open doorway. At her touch, time seemed to stand still and before he knew it, Thomas was already across the floor and at the counter while Aimee reached up high on the back shelf on her toes to grab a glass flower vase. When she got it down, she held it delicately between the splayed fingers of both hands. She seemed hesitant to say something, or maybe share something. Her eyes found it hard to meet his. Then they corrected and settled on Thomas’s.

  “What is it?” Thomas asked.

  “Can I trust you with something?” Her gaze grew hard. It was something the man thought he'd never see.

  “Absolutely, Aimee. Anything.” He was a man of his word, especially with her.

  “Good, good. I had no doubt, but I had to ask.” She grabbed his hand again and Thomas felt the warmth of the contact travel through his fingers and up his arm. He wanted so desperately to give her hand the smallest of squeezes but held back the urge.

  She brought him down the hall and out the back door. Thomas guessed they were headed for the well behind the shop, which at some point long ago had a sturdy shack built around it and locked tight, and as they approached, Aimee produced the key. He noticed their hands were still joined and this time he gave hers a gentle squeeze. She returned it without looking, a gesture that immediately melted him to his core. Aimee unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  Thomas was confused, to say the least. Nowhere inside the tiny structure was there a well to be found. There was only what looked like a wooden cane propped in the corner of the room, a hole of the same width dug into the dirt floor in the middle of the room, and darkness.

  “My father has been hiding this for years.” She handed Thomas the vase with the flowers stuffed inside and stepped into the small space. The only light came through the open door, but it was enough.

  “Hiding what?” He asked, He couldn’t help but release the barest of chuckles despite his mixture of curiosity and confusion. “A stick in the dark?”

  Without a retort, Aimee picked up the wooden rod, jammed it into the hole in the dirt, and retrieved the vase from Thomas. “Come here,” Aimee said with a gesture. She held the vessel under the downward curve of the rod. “Tap the top three times.”

  Without a single thought of judgment at this odd request, Thomas reached out a hand, fingers at their full extent, and rapidly tapped the top. To his complete surprise, crystal clear water ran undisturbed in a smooth flow from the end of the wood. He was so shocked in fact that he stared in disbelief until the vase overflowed and Aimee issued a playful squeal as cold water ran over the lip of the container, striking the dirt and lightly splashing about and wetting their feet and ankles.

  “Tap it again, Thomas! Tap it again!” Aimee laughed.

  Thomas broke free of his daze and tapped the top three times more. The flow stopped immediately without a drop to spare. He brushed his fingertips against the end where the water had come. It was completely bone dry. “This is amazing.” He said it under his breath. “This is…this is magic, isn’t it?”

  Aimee was failing to contain her excitement. She was almost shaking with it. “Yes, it is! I have no clue how it works, though.”

  Few did, Thomas supposed. He bet no one alive knew. He had always thought magic was only spoken of in children’s tales. Something to make young eyes widen and jaws drop. A fantastical departure from a very real, rough world and into one where problems were solved with a spoken word or the wave of a hand.

  A more perfect world.

  Here was something before him that could throw all he knew to be true out the window. A relic of the old world, of a time hundreds of years gone, in the form of a stick in the ground.

  “Now the law against the use of magic makes much more sense,” Thomas said. “I had thought the Holy Family was being nonsensical.” This earned him a glare from Aimee, who looked more than a bit ruffled.

  “Nonsensical? The Holy Family has a reason for everything, Thomas,” she huffed. “It’s obvious that magic once caused our kingdom a great deal of trouble well before we were born. It would benefit you to remind yourself of that possibility.” Her words were serious, but her face and tone had softened. She couldn’t even attempt to be coarse with him. It wouldn’t last.

  Thomas abandoned the thought of a reply and pointed at the marvel before him. “Who else knows about this?”

  “No one. Just my father and I,” and with the briefest of pauses, “and now you, of course.”

  “I’m honored,” he said with a smile. “But why me?”

  “Well, we trust you. My father thought it would be ok to show you and you know you’re like a son to him.”

  Thomas was touched. He knew Mr. Westler was fond of him, but not to that extent. He also couldn’t help but think Aimee had wanted to show off the magic device to impress him. There was no need, however. He was and always would be infinitely impressed with her.

  His hand happened to graze his thigh, the pin in his pocket caught his attention and he decided it was time to shift their collective focus back to that of the woman’s birthday. He would be sure to fill an entire day with questions about this, but that could wait for another time.

. . .

  Captain Leon Groyce sat in his military field tent at a table, pouring over maps of the nation of Corvallia, considering possibilities, weighing options, calculating risks, and predicting outcomes. The man was a brilliant strategist and was attempting to use his years of knowledge and experience to end the string of robberies that had plagued the Holy Family’s trade routes for years. The main issues at hand when concerning the matter were when the thieves would strike next and where they were taking their plunder.

  Most importantly though, was who they were.

  The problem Leon was having was how ill-prepared his men were when an attack on a supply wagon or a royal carriage occurred. They would get hit at random, never in the same place on the route twice, and then months or sometimes several years would go by without so much as a single copper going missing.

  Nothing.

  Now it had happened again. After eleven months of calm, there had come another storm. This time he had tried to be prepared. He had ordered a doubling of the escorts for all trade on the Great Road. He was hoping for such a large number of soldiers to be an aversion. It seems he had been wrong.

  The most frustrating thing about all this was that after fourteen years he had gotten nowhere. He had no clues whatsoever as to who the thieves were, what they looked like, the size of their band, or where they took their spoils. Worst of all, not a single soldier from the Holy Army ever survived an encounter.

  Until now.

  A knight, wearing an immaculate set of polished plate mail bearing the Six-Pointed Star of Ovaro with the crest of the Holy Family of Corvallia in its center, entered the tent and stood at attention, helm cradled under his arm.

  “Captain Groyce, Sir!" The captain looked up from his maps and raised an eyebrow. "He's awake, Sir." With this, Leon's other eyebrow shot up to join the first and he rose to his feet.

  "Take me to him immediately." Leon crossed the tent and followed the man out. as he made his way through his camp, knights and soldiers would stop what they were doing and stand at attention, then go back to shining their armor or smoking their cigarettes. His men knew better than to disrespect their Captain.

  When he arrived at a makeshift medical tent, he threw open the flap and strode in to find a soldier on a cot in the corner, bandaged and bloodied. His right arm hung limp and lifeless off the edge of the bunk, he wore more gore-soaked wrappings than he did clothing, and his breathing was ragged and shallow. When he saw his Captain, he tried his best to sit up. The effort was excruciating, and he was relieved when his commanding officer raised his hand to excuse him from the need to rise.

  "Leave us," Leon told the man who was standing at the entrance. The knight gave a slight bow then exited the tent.

  Leon turned back to the wreck of a man before him. He was a possible treasure trove of information and was the only man to survive these fourteen long years of theft of the Royal Family's coin on the trade routes of Corvallia. Anything this man knew would be dangerously valuable to him. The disheveled man coughed into his fist. It was a coarse sound to Leon's ears.

  "Tell me what happened, soldier. Don't spare a single detail."

  The soldier took a deep breath and produced an even bigger cough because of it. Once he had settled, he looked up at his superior. "There were fifteen of us, Sir, traveling on the Western Road towards the East. It was about midday when we were ambushed." He suffered a fit of coughing once more. When he recovered, he continued. "They came up from behind us out of the woods. Before we knew what was happening, five of our men were dead."

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  “How many were there, soldier? Twenty? Thirty? More?” Leon held back his urgency as best he could but a little seeped through the cracks. He needed answers.

  "Only two!" Another cough. “There were only two, Sir!"

  Leon was speechless. He couldn't believe it. Only two? Ovaro, help them all. "Are you certain your eyes saw true?"

  “Of course, Sir! I'll never forget it! They were an unstoppable force of death!" A slight terror crept into his voice, and he adopted a wild look in his eyes. “One was small and nimble with grace for killing, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Weaving in and out amongst our ranks without a single neck unopened! Dear God, the blood, Sir! The blood!” He had begun to breathe heavily and shook with the words he spoke.

  “Calm down, soldier. You’re safe.” Leon knelt and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Now, tell me of the other.”

  The man’s eyes widened at the mention. “Oh, he was of monstrous size. Easily a head above our tallest, Sir.” The soldier began to weep. “He was a foul demon for sure! A relentless whirlwind of spinning blades with the strength to cleave a man in half, armor and all!”

  Leon knew this was no exaggeration. He had seen the aftermath of the massacre himself. Bodies were strewn about, some cut clean in half while others were sliced so thoroughly through the neck, they had nearly lost their heads. The attack had been so sudden and so swift that most had died before even drawing their blades.

  “Tell me, soldier, how did you survive?” Leon doubted he’d hear a tale of heroism or bravery, but he did want every single detail.

  “Well, Sir,” he began, “I was injured in battle. The large beast of a man swung at me, sir. I managed to block a blow from one of his blades, but when it struck it felt as if some force had aided him, Sir. A force beyond the man’s own strength, mind you. Shattered every bone in my arm and threw me to the dirt. I decided to feign death, Sir.” The man started to weep again. “The thought of never seeing my wife and son again was unbearable. I wanted to live, Sir, so I pretended to die.”

  Leon looked into the man’s eyes and felt nothing for him. The soldiers' tale disgusted him to the core. He only saw a coward. “I see. Do you perhaps have any other information for me, soldier? Maybe a name or the direction they went?”

  The man thought for a moment. He looked tired. “East, Sir. I was on my face in the dirt, but I remember them heading East.”

  “Excellent work, soldier.” Leon stood up. “Is there anything else you might know?”

  “Well, yes, Sir. When they were done with us and the wagon plundered, one of them spoke.”

  Leon grew curious and leaned in intently. “Do you know what they said?”

  “No, my Captain. Forgive me, but they were too far off.” Another round of coughs. “But I bet my soul it was the voice of a woman, Sir.” He smiled. “It was a pretty voice. Young and full of fire. Just like my wife, Lisa, when we first met, Sir.” He gave a rough, wet chuckle. “Reminded me of our younger days when there was no short amount of bickering between the two of us, Sir. My dear Lisa always came out on top though. She’s a wild one.” The man smiled with another small laugh and looked somewhat at peace.

  Leon was growing bored with the man’s reminiscing. “Is that all, soldier?” He still felt nothing. He was a black void of a man.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Very good. I’ll see to it you get back to your family. Rest easy.” With that, he left the tent and was met by his escort just outside.

  The knight snapped to attention. “Was he useful, Captain?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve learned much today. Pack up and prepare to leave. We ride East.”

  “Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.”

  “Oh, and one more thing.” Leon’s face grew deathly serious and cold. “That man in there is a traitor to the Holy Family. He is to be executed immediately.” Leon looked to be thinking. “Burn him alive. Let his agony be a lesson to deserters and cowards alike.”

  The knight did his best to hide his shock, but it managed to show regardless. “Y-yes, Captain. I’ll see to it personally.” His face was ghostly pale.

  As Leon strode away and headed for his tent, he called out without turning back. “And send his bones to his wife.”

. . .

  Aimee couldn’t wait to see how the day would play out. It had started well enough with Thomas bringing her flowers and acting like his shy, bumbling self. She adored that about him and would be sad to see it go once he confessed his love for her, and they grew closer and more comfortable with one another.

  If he confessed his love.

  She knew he loved her. It was obvious. Anyone could see it. She knew it went both ways, too. If others could see the writing on the wall concerning his affection, it was only right to assume they saw her interest in him as well. She had decided to take a page from her mother’s book. If Thomas clammed up on today of all days, then she would take the reins and be the one to push things along. She’d tell him of her love and, with a finger of authority upon his chest, deny him any word against it.

  Aimee held back a wave of giggles at the thought of being so commanding. It was a fantasy, but one she intended to see realized. It was more than life-changing to know that, by the end of the day, one way or another, they would finally have each other.

  She closed her eyes as the two strolled out of town to the North and replayed these happy thoughts over and over in her mind. She misstepped to the side and bumped into Thomas.

  “Careful, Aimee.’ Thomas laughed as he placed a steadying hand upon her shoulder. “How do you expect to walk straight if you close your eyes?”

  She had expected him to grab her hand, not her shoulder. She hoped her disappointment wasn’t visible. Courage struck her and she grabbed his hand from where it rested and wove her fingers into his, letting their palms join warmly and let the result hang down between them.

  Thomas didn’t say a word and when Aimee looked at him out of the corner of her eye it put a smile on her face to see him as red as a cherry. She gave his hand a light squeeze and it was instantly returned along with him lovingly rubbing a thumb across the back of her hand. Aimee felt a swirl of emotions rising from the contact. The heart rates of both increased tenfold. There was something special that came with holding the hand of the person you loved, and they could both feel it.

  “Come on. We’re going this way.” Thomas pulled her off the road and started ascending a grassy hill, at the top of which stood a solitary tree of great might. Its reach was wide, spreading shady protection far to cover much of the hilltop. It was a beautiful spot Aimee knew Thomas visited often but she had yet to see.

  “How have I never been here?” Aimee asked with an air of wonder. “It’s gorgeous.” Thomas didn’t answer. He just took off his boots and walked the rest of the way to the tree, barefoot. Aimee did the same, casting her shoes to the side and running to catch up.

  Thomas flopped down and rested his back against the trunk and aimed to pull her down next to him, but Aimee’s brashness surfaced once more and she sat between his legs instead, leaning back against him. She grabbed his arm and looped it around her own waist. They sat there quietly, eyes closed, neither saying a word. The only sound was the rustle of the wind playing with the leaves in the branches overhead. Soon enough, Aimee felt Thomas’s other arm loop around cautiously to join his first around her. It was enough to almost make her breath catch in her throat, and she became dizzy with a rising heat from within her.

  She began to melt into him, to completely lose herself in this feeling. A subtle kiss was placed on the top of her head, and she felt a shiver spread through her that was immediately followed by overwhelming, soothing warmth. Aimee could feel his embrace tighten as he drew her closer.

  This is it, Aimee thought. From here on out we can only progress. How can we go backward after this? She wanted to dive deeper and deeper into this newfound world they had both longed for so desperately.

  She rose a hand to his cheek and caressed it gently. Thomas leaned his head into her palm and kissed it. Again, she felt the pleasure of his lips upon her skin. He kissed her hand over and over again. Aimee’s heart burst with every peck.

  She couldn’t stand it anymore. Words needed to be said, emotions shared, feeling spilled. She twisted around under his embrace to face him. They were chest to chest, his arms still cradling her and her hand gently upon his cheek. All they could do was live in each other’s gaze for a moment. They took in every feature.

  It was Thomas, surprisingly, who broke the tension. The man slid a hand up past the nape of her neck, buried his fingers in her hair, and pulled her into him. Their lips met. Sparks shot through Aimee’s being as she tensed her muscles then relaxed them again, collapsing into him and submitting to his touch. They bathed in one another’s affection. Each time their lips parted it was only an instant before they joined again. Hands brushed against cheeks, breathes were shared, and every single second was pure bliss.

  “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Aimee didn’t know which one of them had said it. She was far too lost at this point to possibly know, nor did she really care. All that mattered was that it had been said. It was known to both that they were in love.

  She began to cry. All the waiting, all the hesitation, all the caution, the fear of the unknown. It was all over. She cried glistening silver streaks that ran down her cheeks and across the fingers of the man holding her face so lovingly up to his own.

  What felt like hours was, in fact, only minutes. For those brief moments, they drifted in an all-encompassing universe made for them, by them. They separated, and caught in each other’s eyes, wondered if the other was even real. If what had happened was real. If what they felt was real.

  They were real, it had happened, and what they felt deep in the core of their souls was as true as the tree they rested against and as powerful as the culmination of all the love there ever had been, was, and ever would be.

  Aimee buried her face in the man’s chest as deep as it could go, her tears wetting his shirt. At that moment she felt a rustling in her hair and heard a clasp being locked into place. She lifted a hand to inspect it, but Thomas grabbed it and kissed her fingers.

  “Not yet. Later,” he said softly. “Happy birthday, Aimee.” A slight pause. “I love you.”

  Pure elation coursed through her, but she kept her face embedded in his chest. “I love you too.” She cried softly. Aimee meant every word, and she knew he did too.

  They stayed that way for a while longer but soon found themselves up and on their way back to town, a bounce to their step and a fresh sway to their arms as they walked.

  “Was it your plan all along to take me there?” Asked Aimee.

  “Actually, no. To be honest I had no idea what to do for your birthday. It was only a stroke of luck that I thought the hill out there would be a good spot.” He sounded slightly ashamed.

  “You mean a stroke of genius,” Aimee replied. “I would have to say things worked out quite well. Wouldn’t you?” A little giggle escaped her.

  “It was like we were in a fairytale.” He sounded almost bashful saying it. “And you saved the day. Things would have turned out a mess if not for you.”

  “I had good advice,” she said, giving him a wink, “but I’d have to admit you led the way in things. I only opened the door. I didn’t think you would be so bold.” She nudged him with an elbow, blushing.

  “I surprised myself, to be honest. It just…happened.”

  Aimee leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “I’ll always remember the day Thomas braved his timidity and swept me off my feet.” She sighed into the cloth of his shirt, her face pressed against him.

  They reached the edge of town, and before Thomas could say a word, Aimee heard music coming from down the main street and she perked up. It was a tune she recognized as a lovely song called Love’s Ascension.

  How appropriate, she thought. The coincidence made her smile. Without thinking, she rushed to the source of the melody, dragging Thomas the whole way.

  “Whoa! What’s the matter?” His question was wrought with playful laughter.

  “I love this song! You must dance with me. I insist.” She would not be denied.

  “Alright, alright,” he laughed. “I wouldn’t pass up this chance anyway.”

  “Good. I should hope not.”

  When they arrived, they found a woman standing at the market’s center playing the beautiful song on a violin. Her bow arm moved back and forth at a steady pace as the song started over, sounding slightly sorrowful. The beginning of this song always made Aimee feel lost. It was as if she was floating in a void with a hole in her heart.

  They danced slow, locked in each other’s gaze as they circled the central point that was a single joined hand from each of them. The song occasionally picked up, the notes spurring on a sense of hope within them, only to settle back down again into a shallow depression from which there seemed no escape. It reminded her of the pain of waiting, of the agony of wanting to touch but not able to, of wanting to love and be loved in return.

  Suddenly the violin burst into a rapid crescendo that climbed and encouraged an uplifting joy in them both. This was Love’s Ascension. The speed of their steps and twirls quickened as the music reached higher and higher. The notes fluttered in and out rapidly, speaking of the happiness of love. When the music reached its conclusion, the violinist weaved the bow back and forth across the instrument creating a chaotic flurry that amounted to a mighty unstoppable force triumphing over the most wicked of perils.

  They spun around one another with reckless abandon. Aimee’s oscillations and quick movement made her dress fan out and Thomas’s rapidly shuffling feet kicked up dust as they danced in and out. All the while, the pin in Aimee’s hair caught the light from the sun’s brilliance and shot them out every-which-way in beams of gold and silver.

  Everything ended abruptly. The music, the musician, the dancing. It was all replaced by the acclaim from the dozen or so people that had gathered while the two were in their trance, but the lovers didn’t notice a single clap.

  They were held captive by each other’s stare, hands still clasped and breathing heavily. The two pulled one another in at the same time and embraced, kissing deeply.

  They would remember this feeling forever, however long that might be.